


boy problems

by loveleee



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, and Jealousy, and Trev Brown, because season 1 needed more pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 02:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13261263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveleee/pseuds/loveleee
Summary: Jughead snorts loudly beside her. She turns to look at him. His eyes stay trained on his lunch tray, fingers picking at a bit of crust left from his sandwich.“What?” Betty demands. She’s never known Jughead Jones to have many opinions about her love life, but if he’s got one now, she wants to hear it.Jughead glances at her, then Archie, and shrugs. “Nothing.”(Trev likes Betty. Betty thinks she likes Trev. If only things were that simple.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [singsongsung](https://archiveofourown.org/users/singsongsung/gifts).



> This basically picks up mid-1x05, without the events surrounding Jason's funeral.

The thing that surprises Betty the most about her _intelligence-gathering mission_ with Trev Brown isn’t that Jason Blossom had started behaving weirdly a few weeks after he got together with Polly. It’s not that he’d stopped answering Trev’s calls, and started dodging him in the halls. It’s not even that there were rumors that Jason – the richest teenager in the entire town, save perhaps his twin sister – had been selling drugs.

It’s that she actually enjoys herself.

So when Trev drops her off at her front door that night, presses a hesitant kiss against her cheek, and asks her if she’d like to hang out again, she says yes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kevin reacts to the news with a bizarre sort of triumph.

“I knew it,” he says, threading his arm through Betty’s as they meander down the hallway towards the cafeteria. “Intelligence gathering, my ass.”

“But I _did_ gather intelligence,” she protests, unable to stop the sheepish grin that’s nonetheless spreading across her face. “Just because I had a good time doing it doesn’t change the original intent.”

Betty hadn’t tugged on the Jason Blossom thread any further once it became clear that Trev had shared everything he knew with her – and, more importantly, that talking about Jason was wearing on him. Unbidden, Veronica’s words from the bleachers the previous day had echoed through her head: _Why can’t a date just be a date?_

Devil Jughead had replaced Angel Veronica on her shoulder almost as quickly: a scowl on his face, arms crossed over his chest, a pencil tucked behind his ear. _Because we’ve got a murder to solve._

But Trev’s broad shoulders had visibly relaxed when she’d asked him about his summer vacation, and she’d felt her own tension dissipate as the conversation flowed. It had been the right choice. The kind choice.

And besides – it was _pleasant_ , talking to someone who wasn’t wrapped up in the murder investigation the way all of her other friends were.

“Whatever. I’m onto you and your ulterior motives, Betty Cooper,” Kevin says, dropping her arm once they reach the table where Archie, Veronica and Jughead are already tucking into lunch.

“Ulterior motives?” Veronica repeats, perking up in her seat. “This I need to hear.”

Betty rolls her eyes as she slips into the chair next to Jughead’s. “Meet me in the Blue & Gold after eighth period? I’ll give you an update,” she says, keeping her voice low.

He meets her eyes, his mouth full of food, and nods. His puffy cheeks look so ridiculously hamster-like that she giggles before turning away to pull her own home-packed lunch out of her backpack.

“Betty’s murder investigation turned into another kind of investigation,” Kevin says. “Of Trev Brown’s hot bod.”

“Kevin!” Betty can feel her face burning scarlet. To her left, Jughead starts coughing violently; across the table, Archie’s eyebrows have nearly disappeared into his hairline.

Veronica leans forward, her elbows on the table, curiosity glittering in her eyes. “Tell me more, tell me more.”

“I am _not_ investigating his bod,” Betty says, taking what she hopes is a decisive bite into her apple. “I got some information about Jason, and then we hung out at Pop’s. That’s it.”

“But something must have happened,” Veronica presses, looking to Kevin for confirmation.

“I said we could hang out again,” Betty says, heading off Kevin before he can pipe up with another wildly exaggerated claim about her date. “Trev is really nice.”

“I think it’s great,” Archie says, sounding utterly sincere. “I’m happy for you, Betty.”

 _Thanks, Arch_ , sits on the tip of her tongue, but before she can get the words out, Jughead snorts loudly beside her. She turns to look at him. His eyes stay trained on his lunch tray, fingers picking at a bit of crust left from his sandwich.

“What?” Betty demands. She’s never known Jughead Jones to have many opinions about her love life, but if he’s got one now, she wants to hear it.

Jughead glances at her, then Archie, and shrugs. “Nothing.”

She lets it go, because she isn’t really sure what she wants to say anyway, and because Veronica conveniently launches into a query of whether any date spots exist in Riverdale _other_ than Pop Tate’s diner. But his reaction is still snagged at the back of her mind like a loose thread when she finds him in the Blue & Gold office a few minutes after the bell rings later that afternoon.

Jughead’s face betrays no emotions as she recounts what Trev had told her about Jason. When she’s done, he stands up and begins to pace around the room, hands tucked into his armpits. (He’s done this exact thing so many times since joining the newspaper that she’s begun to think of it, affectionately, as Jughead’s thinking dance.)

He stops short by the door, turning back to face her. “And then what? He asked you out again?”

Betty frowns, certain she misheard him. “What?”

“Trev,” Jughead says. “He told you all this, and then he asked you on another date.”

Betty hopes her face is sufficiently conveying the _what-the-hell_ nature of her reaction, because try as she might to express it verbally, she finds herself tripping over her words. “Not…immediately – why? What does that have to do with anything?”

He shrugs. “I’m just trying to get a full picture of what happened.”

“Are you implying there’s something _nefarious_ about Trev wanting to go out with me again?”

“No.” Appearing unable to stop himself, he adds, “If anything, it’s the opposite.”

“What does _that_ mean?”

Jughead purses his lips before he speaks, like there’s a part of him that knows he shouldn’t answer. A part of him that, in the end, goes wholly ignored. “I mean it’s the most perfect girl in school dating the most perfect guy in school. It’s completely predictable.”

Something hard and unpleasant forms in the pit of Betty’s stomach. “Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t call you what?”

“Perfect.” She nearly spits out the word. “You know me better than that.”

The hard line of his mouth just barely softens, so subtle she almost doesn’t catch it. “Okay. I’m sorry.” Jughead scratches at the back of his head with one hand, looking past her, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “It’s just – it’s like watching your whole Archie situation happen all over again.”

Betty feels like there are fingers closing around her windpipe. She and Jughead had never spoken about what had happened between her and Archie. He hadn’t attended the dance, nor Cheryl Blossom’s disastrous afterparty. Anything he knows about the so-called “Archie situation,” he learned from Archie.

(Or observed himself – a thought she pushes away the instant it comes to her.)

“First of all,” Betty says, clenching her fingers around the seat of her chair so they don’t form a fist. “This is _nothing_ like that. Second of all, why do you even care?”

The medley of emotions that flicker over Jughead’s face disappear so quickly that Betty wonders if she’s imagined them.

“Because you’re my friend, Betty,” he says, punctuating her name with a sigh. “Because I care about _you_ , because you’re my friend.”

The imaginary fingers loosen their grip on her throat, and her real ones relax from where they’re curled around the edge of her seat. Jughead looks embarrassed. She watches as he tugs at his hat, pulling it back over the tips of his ears, and returns to the desk with his laptop open on it, where he’d been seated when she entered the room.

It is, she decides, a good answer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

But it is also – she decides, after ruminating on it as she tosses and turns in bed that night – an incomplete one.

“You seem antsy,” Veronica tells her in the locker room after cheerleading practice. She sweeps her dark hair away from her face and up into an elegant bun without even looking in the mirror, leaving Betty to wonder yet again how her friend learned to make everything she does look so _effortless,_ with only sixteen years of practice behind her. “Nervous about your date?”

Betty shakes her head, damp strands of hair clinging to her neck. “No. It’s…something weird is going on with Jughead,” she says.

“I think that’s called _being Jughead_.”

Betty gives her a Look, and Veronica responds with a sugary sweet smile and a tilt of her head. It wasn’t exactly a shock to Betty that Riverdale High’s self-proclaimed loner and No. 1 party girl, respectively, had not warmed up to one another yet. Though it would make her daily life a hell of a lot easier if they would just suck it up and make nice already.

“Okay, so what is it then?” Veronica continues as they gather their bookbags and emerge into the now-empty hallway.

“We kind of…had a fight?” Betty runs her fingers through the ends of her hair. “But not really. And he seems really suspicious of Trev. Like he thinks…I don’t even know what he thinks.”

Her working theory is that it has something to do with Trev’s connection to the football team. Jughead had never confided in her about it – which is why she won’t mention it to Veronica now – but based on some off-handed comments he’d made over the years, she was vaguely aware that he’d endured some bullying at their hands during freshman year.

Even so, she couldn’t imagine Trev participating in that kind of cruelty. Not the same Trev who had actually _quit_ the team over that disgusting book of conquests.

Veronica makes a dismissive noise in her throat. “He’s just jealous.”

“Jealous of what?”

Betty shuffles sideways as Veronica’s elbow nudges her gently in the ribs. “You and Trev, silly.”

The laugh that emits from Betty’s mouth is so abrupt it can only be described as a _bark_. “No.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Veronica says indignantly. “He likes you.”

“No. He doesn’t.” Betty adjusts the straps on her backpack, pulling them more snugly around her shoulders. “Jughead doesn’t like anyone that way.”

“Okay, counterpoint: he does, and he likes _you_.”

Betty looks at her friend in disbelief. “Where is this coming from? You guys don’t even talk.”

“Yeah, but I’m around you two _all the time_ , which is proof enough that he likes you, because he definitely does not like me.”

“Archie’s usually there, too,” Betty mumbles, though she supposes Veronica’s got a point.

“And he writes for the newspaper because of you, right? _And_ I saw him let you eat some of his fries at Pop’s last week. For Jughead, that’s basically a proposal.” Veronica shrugs. “All the classic signs are there, my dear.”

As far as raw facts go, Veronica’s not necessarily _wrong_ – Jughead had been remarkably easy to recruit to the Blue  & Gold, and he did typically guard his french fries with the ferocity of a mother bird protecting her nest. But he’d so clearly been itching to dive into the murder investigation anyway – it was why she’d invited him to join the paper in the first place. And as for the fries, maybe he’d just had a lot to eat that day already. Anything was possible when it came to Jughead’s appetite.

“Look, I’m not telling you to date Jughead,” Veronica points out. “Personally, I think Trev is way more your speed. I’m just telling you, if he’s acting like a little bitch, that’s why.”

“Veronica!” she laughs.

Her friend pushes open the front door to the school, and Betty blinks against the light of the setting sun.

“Excellent, Smithers is already here,” Veronica says. “You want a ride?”

“Sure,” Betty says, and follows her down the steps into the parking lot, though her mind trails somewhere behind them, still stuck on those moments in the Blue & Gold.


	2. Chapter 2

On Friday morning, as she’s gathering her books from her locker before first period, Betty feels a tap on her shoulder.

It’s Jughead. “Hey,” he says, pulling his headphones down so they rest around his neck.

Betty crosses her arms over her chest as she turns to face him. They hadn’t really spoken since their tiff in the Blue & Gold a few days earlier, other than a few half-hearted pleasantries exchanged at lunchtime. Truth be told, ever since her conversation with Veronica, she could hardly look at Jughead without wondering exactly what it was running through his head whenever he looked back at her.

Right now – if the dark circles beneath his eyes are any indication – it’s probably more along the lines of _I need coffee_ or _I hate school,_ and not the _I like you, Betty Cooper_ train of thought that Veronica had implanted in her brain.

Jughead clears his throat. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About Jason maybe,” he lowers his voice, leaning in towards her, “selling drugs.”

He’s close enough that she can detect the faint scent of his shampoo. It’s minty, which she files away in the back of her mind to consider later, when he’s not standing before her, talking about illegal drug deals in the middle of their high school. “Okay,” she says. “So what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that it doesn’t make any sense,” Jughead says. “Why would _he_ be so desperate for cash that he was willing to do that?”

It’s the same question that had echoed through Betty’s mind when Trev shared his suspicions at Pop’s earlier in the week. But just as she opens her mouth to tell him that, a third party joins them at her locker: Trev himself.

“Hey guys,” he says, the bright grin on his face an almost comical contrast to Jughead’s early-morning scowl. “You look nice today,” he adds, nodding towards Betty.

Betty feels her cheeks grow warm, and she smiles back. “Thanks, Trev.”

“Sure.” He ducks his head a little, and an image of six-year-old Trev floats up from the depths of her memory, soft and shy. He’d always been sweet, but until recently, Trev Brown had occupied a space firmly on the periphery of Betty’s attention. Even at a young age, Betty had been drawn to Archie’s boundless energy, his loud laugh, his guileless smile, like a moth to a redheaded flame – and sometimes that tunnel vision had come at the expense of other friends.

Now and then she wonders what would be different now, if she hadn’t spent so much of her childhood laser-focused on Archie – first his friendship, then his love. At the very least, she probably would’ve been kissed by someone other than that boy she met at her summer internship by now.

“If you’ve got a sec, I was wondering if you wanted to talk about tomorrow night?” he asks, a hopeful note to the question that tugs at her heartstrings.

“We were actually in the middle of something,” Jughead says flatly. “Trev.”

Betty startles. “ _Jughead._ ”

“Shoot, I’m sorry, I – I’ll let you guys talk.” Trev takes a step back, his hands coming up to fiddle with the straps of his backpack. “Betty, I’ll text you?”

Before she can tell him _No, Jug’s just being an idiot_ , he’s halfway down the hallway.

She whirls on Jughead. “What was that?”

“He interrupted us,” he says, his eyes darting away from her daggered gaze.

“You didn’t have to be rude.”

“I wasn’t rude, I was…straightforward.”

Betty huffs, turning back to her locker.

“We’re investigating a murder, Betty,” Jughead sighs. “I think it’s _slightly_ more important than figuring out which shitty superhero movie you’re going to see this weekend.”

Betty grabs her chemistry textbook and shuts her locker with enough force that the ones beside it shake slightly. “I can set my own priorities. Okay?”

She stalks away, heading for her first class of the day, before he can answer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When the bell rings at the end of English class, Betty grabs Kevin’s arm on his way out the door, steering him away from the cafeteria. “I don’t want to eat lunch with everyone today,” she says. “Can we go to McDonald’s?”

Over milkshakes and fries (subpar to those found at Pop’s, but safely within the 1,000-foot range they’re permitted to wander off-campus for lunch), she recounts Jughead’s strange behavior of late, and Veronica’s even stranger explanation for it. After spending so much time over the past few weeks with Veronica – a master of masking her emotions – there’s something wonderful about spilling it all out to Kevin, whose face journeys from surprise to amusement to skepticism with every new piece of information she reveals.

“I don’t know,” he says once she’s finished, shaking his head as he slurps at his chocolate shake. “Veronica’s a genius, obviously, but Jughead’s so…Jughead _._ ”

“That’s what I said,” Betty nods.

“Then again.” Kevin points a limp french fry at Betty before popping it into his mouth. “He did try to sabotage your date with Trev this morning.”

Betty snorts. “Calling it ‘sabotage’ is a little dramatic.” She frowns, picking idly at the edge of the plastic lid on her milkshake cup. “He wasn’t necessarily _wrong_. Finding out what happened to Jason might explain what’s going on with my sister, and –”

“Betty, let me stop you right there.” Kevin reaches across the table and lays his palm over her hand. “You have to live your life. It’s great that you want to help solve the murder. And _of course_ you want to find Polly. But Jughead doesn’t get to guilt trip you for caring about other things, too.”

She squeezes his hand, one side of her mouth curving up in gratitude. “No, you’re right.”

Kevin squeezes back before pulling away. “Besides. It doesn’t even matter why Jughead’s being a dick, unless you wanted to get _on_ that dick, which is just…” He trails off, his eyes narrowing as he studies Betty’s face. She looks down, suddenly fascinated by the small puddle of ketchup still left on her tray. “Crazy. Right?”

Betty shakes her head, but waits a half-second too long to say, “Yeah. Totally.”

“Elizabeth Cooper.” Kevin leans forward across the table. “Do you _like_ Jughead?”

“No! No. I’m mad at him,” she insists. Which is true.

And yet.

What’s also true is that she can’t really put into words whatever it is she’s feeling for Jughead right now, because it’s come on so abruptly that she doesn’t even know if she’s having _real_ feelings, or simply a reaction to the idea that _he_ has feelings for _her._

Are his hands a constant distraction at the lunch table because she wants to hold them in her own, or would she be happy holding _any_ hand?

Does she really want to play with that lock of hair that perpetually hangs over his forehead, or does she just want to _touch_ someone?

Is her gaze drawn to his lips in every conversation because she wants to kiss him? Or does she merely want to kiss someone who actually wants to kiss her back?

Kevin, she knows, would happily skip what remains of the school day to plumb the depths of these questions with her as they eat their way through the dollar menu. But her mother would smell the grease (and the guilt) all over her, and if she’s being honest with herself – she’s a little bit afraid of the answers they might find.

“Okay,” he says, arching one eyebrow. “Just thought I’d ask.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

The second half of the school day drags on. But, as promised, Trev texts her the details of their date just as the final bell rings: he’ll pick her up at 8 o’clock on Saturday, after dinner, and drive them both to the disco bowling alley in Greendale. _Shakes @ Pop’s after are optional_ , he’d added with a wink emoji.

Veronica appears mildly horrified by Trev’s proposed itinerary that evening as she and Betty paint their nails in the Lodges’ opulent dining room. (“ _Mija_ , don’t do that at the dinner table,” her mother had chided as she walked past the room; Betty had been equal parts aghast and impressed when Veronica simply waved her off.)

“So you’re okay with that?” Veronica asks.

Sifting through the enormous collection of nail colors on the table before them, Betty bites back a grin. “Yes, I think I’ll survive.”

“I’m not being a snob,” Veronica insists, applying a clear layer of base coat to her thumbnail with practiced precision. “I just think you deserve to be swept off your feet.”

“Who says that can’t happen at disco night at the bowling alley?” Betty holds out two bottles of polish. “Light pink or hot pink?”

“Red,” Veronica says without hesitation, handing her a third bottle from the pile. “Not that anyone will see it, with your fingers jammed inside a bowling ball the whole night. I hope you’re bringing hand sanitizer.”

Betty giggles. “If it makes you feel better, I think my mom has an old bowling ball in our garage somewhere I could use.”

“If you _really_ want to make me feel better” – Veronica bats her eyes coquettishly – “you’ll let me help you pick an outfit.”

Despite Betty’s protests – _you can’t bowl in a floor-length gown; no, “disco night” doesn’t mean you have to dress according to theme_ – Veronica shows up at the Cooper household at six-thirty on the dot the following night, with what appears to be a third of her own closet in tow. 

Also despite her protests, she kind of loves the outfit she ends up in. Veronica concedes Betty’s upper body to a plain white scoop-neck top she already owned, but the pink sequined mini-skirt hugging her hips is all Lodge. Betty even lets Veronica talk her into strapping on a pair of sky-high nude pumps, knowing she’ll trade them in for a pair of worn bowling shoes soon enough.

“You are stunning. A goddess,” Veronica proclaims. She bats at the end of Betty’s ponytail playfully. “Sure I can’t convince you to wear your hair down?”

Betty shakes her head enthusiastically. “Nope.”

“Then all that’s left is finding the perfect shade of lipstick.”

While Veronica sorts through her makeup bag, Betty settles onto her window seat, already feeling a dull ache in the balls of her feet thanks to Veronica’s heels. Out of habit, she pulls back the curtain to see if Archie’s in his room across the yard.

He’s not. But Jughead is.

The movement of her curtain must catch his eye, because he turns away from whatever video game is playing on the screen before him and looks out the window, straight at Betty. His mouth drops open slightly. And despite her best efforts to catch it, whatever lingering anger she’s been holding towards him slips away through her fingers like sand.

Fighting a smile, she waves.

Jughead waves back, then looks down at his lap. Betty’s phone buzzes with a text a moment later.

_You look pretty_

Without warning, her stomach fills with butterflies.

When she looks back out the window, he’s looking too, his mouth curled up in a half-smile. _Thank you_ , she mouths.

Instead of nodding or shrugging or saying _you’re welcome_ in return, Jughead tilts his head to the side, his brows knitting together in confusion. _What?_ he mouths.

She does it twice more – _thank you_ – moving her lips with greater and greater exaggeration each time. She only realizes he’s messing with her when his face splits open in a grin.

Her phone buzzes again. _One more time? Didn’t catch it_

“Shut up,” Betty murmurs, giggling to herself.

“What?” Veronica looks up from the vanity, where she’s narrowed the lipstick selection down to three shades of pink, laid out in a row from light to dark. From where she’s sitting, Betty knows, she can’t see out the window.

“Nothing,” she says, and tugs the curtain shut.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Thank you so much for all the love on chapter 1! I love comments. LOVE. If you're so inclined to leave one for this chapter as well ;)
> 
> \- Also, I'm a liar, they didn't end up going on the date yet after all. I like to try and keep chapters at a consistent length throughout a story and we just didn't get there yet. (I'm sure everyone's really upset that I ended up writing more flirty little Bughead moments than a Betty/Trev date.) Next chapter will start there! I swear!
> 
> \- And yes, if you hadn't guessed already, this is getting longer than I anticipated...might end up 3 parts, might end up 4, we'll see.


	3. Chapter 3

“ _Another_ one!”

Betty giggles as Trev wraps her in a celebratory hug; it’s her third strike of the night, and they haven’t even finished their first game yet.

“You’re a ringer, Betty,” he continues, lifting his 15-pound ball from the rack with ease. She watches as he steps forward, bends his knees, and releases the ball, knocking down just four of the pins when its path lists to the left. (She could give him some pointers on his form that would help, but truthfully, she’s enjoying winning a game of bowling for once.)

“My parents were in a bowling league when I was little,” she explains as they wait for his ball to return. “So they used to take me and Polly here all the time. And they did _not_ hold back.”

Trev looks impressed. “That’s so cool.”

“I don’t know if ‘cool’ is the word I’d use,” she says, but he doesn’t appear to hear her, already bounding back towards the lane with the same enthusiasm he brings to…well, everything.

As promised, Trev had shown up at the Cooper residence at eight o’clock on the dot, a small bouquet of pink flowers in hand. He’d made eye contact with her father as they shook hands, and handled her mother’s rapid-fire questioning like a seasoned pro. He’d opened the door to his car for Betty, let her choose the music, and asked her about her week as they made the thirty-minute drive out to Greendale.

Now he’s losing to her at the bowling alley – badly – and unlike pretty much every other boy she’s ever met in her life, isn’t sulking about it.

Trev is sweet and thoughtful, generous and good-looking. It would be accurate to say that Betty is enjoying herself.

And yet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

They take a break for snacks after Betty runs away with the first game. While Trev waits in line, Betty sneaks a glance at her phone.

Predictably, there’s a handful of texts from Veronica and Kevin, who appear to be together and tag-teaming their inquiries: _How’s the date going? Is he a good disco dancer?? Has he kissed u yet???_ Kevin throws in a few eggplants for good measure.

_Fun_ , she texts back, followed by _?? there’s no dancing_ , and finally an eyeroll emoji.

Her friends appeased, she swipes back to her recent texts, and taps her finger lightly on the first name below Kevin’s and Veronica’s. No new messages, but she can still feel the words tumbling around in her stomach: _you look pretty._

Heat creeps up the back of her neck, and she drops her phone back into her purse.

Trev comes back with two sodas and a soft pretzel to share between them. He sits beside her on the chipped plastic seat, his knee touching her thigh, and nudges one of the sodas towards her. “You like cherry coke, right?”

Betty nods, her mouth curving up into a lopsided smile. “How’d you guess?”

He looks away, fiddling with the straw of his drink. “I’ve always noticed you, Betty.”

She isn’t sure what to say to that, but it makes her blush, so she tears off a piece of the pretzel, dips it into the little cup of mustard he’s brought back from the snack counter, and pops it into her mouth. Music pulses around them from the sound system – _gimme that night fever, night fever_ – and she watches as a cluster of blue and green lights swirl across the shiny, lacquered lanes before them, silently willing her face to cool down.

Conversation had flowed so easily between them that first night at Pop’s. Now, with the Bee Gees’ Greatest Hits blaring into her ears, she can’t think of a single thing to say.

Trev takes a long sip of his soda, swallows hard, and then turns to Betty, lifting his hand to her face.

“You have, um, some mustard,” he says, trailing off as his thumb brushes against the corner of her mouth.

Betty lifts her eyes to meet his, and freezes. All it would take for Trev to kiss her – or vice versa – is for one of them to lean in, close the gap a few inches…

Her nerves win out, and she turns her head, grabbing a paper napkin off of their tray. She dabs at her mouth. “Sorry. Gross,” she jokes.

“Nah, it’s cute,” Trev says, shifting back slightly in his seat. “Um, are you still hungry? Did you want anything else?”

Betty shakes her head. “I’m good, thank you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

They play a second game, this one with a little less energy than the first; since the snack break, something has shifted between them.

If Betty’s being honest with herself: something’s shifted between them ever since she rejected his fairly obvious attempt at a kiss.

And she shouldn’t feel guilty. She _knows_ that. She doesn’t owe Trev Brown a kiss just because he paid for her bowling shoes and bought her a soft drink. She doesn’t owe him a kiss just because he’s _nice_.

But she’s kicking herself nonetheless. Wasn’t that why she’d agreed to a second date in the first place? To see where things could go? How can she do that if she throws up a roadblock every time things _do_ start going somewhere?

(If she’s being _really_ honest with herself: maybe it has less to do with her hesitation to kiss Trev, and more to do with the fact that she’s beginning to suspect that if it had been someone else wiping mustard off of her lip, she wouldn’t have hesitated at all.)

“Betty.” Trev pulls her out of her thoughts with a light touch to her elbow. “You’re up.”

She shakes her head slightly, and winces. The colorful lights flashing in rhythm with the music are starting to give her a headache. “Oh. Thanks.”

“Hey.” He stops her with a light touch to her shoulder this time. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course.” She finds her ball in the ball return and rolls it forward with her palm in search of the gripping holes.  

“Okay.” His smile when she glances back at him is small but hopeful, and it makes something in her chest ache. “I was just thinking – if you’re bored of totally kicking my ass, we could just go to Pop’s now. Or go hang out at my house, or your house, or something.”

Betty shifts the ball back and forth in her hands, considering. Maybe a change of scenery is exactly what this date needs to get back on track. They’d had a good time at Pop’s before – it’s only logical that they’ll have a good time there again.

She smiles. “I don’t know. Are you sure you’re not just trying to get me to forfeit?”

Trev grins back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When they enter the diner, Betty’s eyes flick to the left, as they always do, to the last booth in the corner by the windows. Jughead’s usual booth.

He’s not there. Tonight it’s occupied by a trio of girls she vaguely recognizes as seniors from school.

They slide into a booth on the other side of the diner, Trev’s feet bumping playfully against hers below the table, and order milkshakes.

“So,” Betty says. “What are you doing with all that free time now that you’re off the football team?”

“Well, I’m playing my drums a lot more. Um…reading, I guess? I have a lot more time for homework than I used to.” Trev laughs. “It sucks that it was too late to try out for any of the other fall sports, though. I still run on the track pretty regularly. I’ve seen you at River Vixens practice a few times?”

Betty makes a face. “Yeah, Cheryl runs us pretty hard.”

“How’s that going?”

It’s a good question. There are things Betty loves about being a River Vixen – wearing her uniform in the halls on game days; the rush of performing for the crowd on Friday nights; locking eyes with Veronica across the gymnasium when Cheryl makes a particularly ridiculous dig at one of the other girls.

But there’s also Cheryl. And the other girls.

“It’s fun. It’s kind of intense,” she admits. “I think it’s good I also have the Blue and Gold to balance things out a little.”

Trev nods. “And that’s you and Kevin and Jughead?”

“Me and Jughead,” she corrects him. “Kevin was just hanging out the other day.”

“I didn’t know Jughead was into that kind of thing.”

“What – writing? You’ve seen him in here with his laptop, right?”

“Yeah, I meant more like…group activities.”

“Oh.” Betty shrugs. “Well, I asked him to join.”

She doesn’t realize how that sounds until she’s said it out loud. “Not, like, he’s only doing it because _I_ asked him to do it,” she rushes to add. “I just mean – it wasn’t his idea.”

“No, I get it.” Trev looks like he wants to say more, but then the milkshakes arrive, a welcome and well-timed distraction.

 

 

 

 

 

 

They linger over a basket of fries at Pop’s for a little over an hour before Betty checks her phone for the time. “We should probably go,” she says, lifting one side of her mouth in an apologetic smile.

“No worries,” Trev assures her. “I do not want to risk the wrath of Mama Cooper.”

He insists on paying the bill (and she doesn’t feel too bad about it, since it’s only $12 anyway). He holds the door open for her as they leave, and then jogs lightly across the parking lot so he can open the passenger side door to his car for her, too.

But rather than reaching for the door handle when she joins him, Trev rubs one palm against his thigh, the other coming to scratch the back of his neck. “I had a really good time with you, Betty,” he says.

“Me too,” she says, and it’s true enough. It wasn’t like she’d had a _bad_ one.

Trev meets her eyes and takes her hand; his palm feels a little damp. “Is it okay if…” He stops, and swallows, and starts over: “Can I kiss you?”

Betty’s heart starts beating so fast she nearly presses her hand to her chest, as though doing so might somehow calm it down. But it’s not a shocking request, nor an inappropriate one. In fact, she kind of appreciates that he’s asking at all.

Besides – won’t this answer the question she’s been agonizing over for the last five days? (God, has it really only been _five days?_ )

“Um – sure,” she squeaks, and then his lips meet hers.

And it’s…nice. Good, even. Trev’s lips are soft, and his breath is inoffensive, and his thumb rubs over the back of her hand as they kiss, which she supposes would be a sweet way of keeping her grounded if she felt at all lightheaded or woozy from the kiss.

The thing is: she doesn’t. Instead she feels almost _too_ grounded, hyperaware of so many things happening in her body at once that she feels she might jump out of her skin if any of it goes on much longer: of Trev’s mouth against hers, and his fingers clasping her hand, and the itchy mosquito bite on the back of her calf, and the ache in her feet as she stands on the pavement in Veronica’s four-inch heels.

Thankfully, Trev doesn’t seem inclined to turn the kiss into a full-on make out session, and after a few more seconds he pulls away. He squeezes her hand, and smiles.

“Cool,” he says.

Betty can’t help herself. She giggles.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Trev walks her to her front door, where he bends down and plants a brief, chaste kiss on her lips. Betty gives him a hug, and thanks him, and says goodnight.

The hands on the grandfather clock just inside the door show it’s a few minutes past twelve. Despite her mother’s insistence on a midnight curfew – which Alice had repeated for Trev three times before he was permitted to whisk her away to the bowling alley – the silence suggests to Betty that her parents are already asleep. (As does the empty wineglass sitting beside the kitchen sink.) She slips off Veronica’s shoes and tiptoes up to her bedroom.

The pink flowers that Trev had brought are sitting on her desk in a small glass vase, obviously the work of her mother. Flopping back onto her bed, Betty grabs a pillow and squeezes it over her chest, replaying the night’s events over in her head. She keeps looping back to the same one, over and over again: their first kiss. In the moment, kissing Trev had been…nice.

But nothing about it had made her want to do it _again._

Betty lolls her head to the side, curiosity fizzling in the back of her mind as her gaze lands on the floral curtains still pulled across her window. She swings her legs around to the other side of the bed and stands up, tugging the curtain aside with one finger so she can peek out.

The curtains are closed on Archie’s window across the yard, but the lights are on.

Betty grabs her phone from the bedside table. Her exchange with Jughead is still the first thing she sees when she opens up her texts.

_You look pretty._

It wasn’t a message you’d send to someone you _didn’t_ want to talk to in the middle of the night. Right?

Before she can talk herself out of it, she types out a text _–_ _Are you still at archies? –_ and hits send.

Jughead’s reply pops up before she even has a chance to get nervous. _Nope_

Her heart sinks, but then the typing dots appear again at the bottom of the screen.

_Why? Everything ok?_

_Oh ok_ , she types back quickly. _Yeah just wondering._ She hesitates, then adds a smile emoji with its tongue poking out.  

The dots appear, disappear, reappear; Betty doesn’t even realize she’s been holding her breath until he finally sends back a single letter _k._

It’s apparently all that either of them can think to say.

Until Monday, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. thank you so so so much for all the comments, kudos, etc! 
> 
> 2\. i'm sorry this took so long! as it turns out, it's not actually that fun to write a whole chapter where half of your main ship is on a date with another character? even if that character is human puppy dog Trev Brown?
> 
> 3\. your eyes do not deceive you. this fic that was originally supposed to be TWO chapters is now four. *sigh* *but i'm excited about the next AND FINAL one*
> 
> 4\. i'm not throwing shade at canon!Jug for kissing her without asking first. i just think she'd think it's one of the many "nice" things about Trev that he does.
> 
> 5\. i neglected to say this earlier, but i named the fic after the Carly Rae Jepsen song, which i love
> 
> 6\. come say hi on tumblr if you're so inclined! i'm (oh so creatively) at imreallyloveleee.
> 
> 7\. and please leave a comment if you're enjoying this! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Betty’s mother is already waiting for her at the kitchen table by the time she stumbles down the stairs the next morning, a stack of warm blueberry pancakes steaming on the counter.

“Good morning, Betty,” she says, taking a small sip of orange juice.

Pancakes are something of a rarity in the Cooper household, but a welcome one, so Betty doesn’t question their presence lest Alice suddenly realize she’s serving up a sugar-bomb for breakfast. She can feel her mother’s eyes on her back as she makes herself a plate.

“Well?”

Betty frowns as she takes a seat across the table from her mom. “Well what?”

“How was your _date_?” Alice smiles, raising both of her perfectly plucked eyebrows for emphasis. It’s not that far off from the look Veronica makes when she wants to gossip, a resemblance that Betty finds…unsettling.

“It was fine,” she says, shoving a forkful of pancakes into her mouth. Maybe if she’s sloppy enough, it’ll drive Alice to change the subject altogether, to her daughter’s utter lack of good manners.

No such luck. “Just fine?” Alice repeats. “I thought Trev was quite the gentleman last night.”

“He was,” Betty shrugs. “He’s nice, I just…I don’t think I like him that way.”

Her mother’s lips form a thin line across her face. “I hope this isn’t because you’re still carrying a torch for that Andrews boy.”

_That Andrews boy_. As if Archie hasn’t lived next door for the past decade, and spent hour upon hour hanging out in this exact kitchen, doing homework, watching Betty bake cookies, eating said cookies. It takes all of the self-control Betty possesses not to roll her eyes in response. “It’s not,” she says flatly.

Betty’s phone buzzes in her pocket, and she seizes the opportunity to escape. “Sorry Mom, it’s Kevin, we’re working on a history project together, I gotta take this,” she says in a rush, scrambling up the stairs to her bedroom with her phone pressed to her ear, though in truth it was only a text alert.

The message is from Veronica, to both Betty and Kevin:

_Mom’s on the afternoon shift all day. Mimosas + debrief at my place, y/y?_

Kevin responds almost instantly. _YES PLZ_

It takes Betty approximately three seconds to weigh her options: overanalyze every last excruciating detail about the four-hour date with a half-drunk Kevin and Veronica; or spend the next hour pinned to the living room sofa while her mother unleashes thirty years’ worth of well-honed interrogation skills upon her.

_Be there in an hour._

“Cheers!”

Betty leans forward to clink her champagne flute against the others’, unable to stop from grinning as she takes her first sip. (Along with Korean face masks, silk pajamas, and handbags that cost more than her entire back-to-school wardrobe, Veronica’s arrival in Riverdale had brought with it the introduction of casual underage day drinking into Betty’s life. She wasn’t mad about it.)

“I like that look on your face, Betty Cooper,” Veronica says, leaning back in her plush leather armchair. “Spill.”

Betty scrunches up her nose. “There’s not much to say.”

“Liar.” Kevin swats at her knee half-heartedly.

“Okay, fine.” Betty takes another, delicate sip of her mimosa, and shrugs. “It was nice. He brought me flowers, he charmed my parents –”

“He charmed your _mom_?” Kevin interrupts.

“You should’ve heard her this morning – _quite_ the gentleman, blah blah blah. Anyway, we went bowling, obviously, and he didn’t know I’m actually really good at bowling, so when we –”

“Okay, we get it, you’re soulmates because you love bowling,” Veronica says. “Did you make out?”

“No.” Betty pauses. “But we did kiss. When we were leaving Pop’s and he was about to take me home.”

Kevin pumps his fist silently into the air; Veronica nods slowly, her expression inscrutable. “And?”

“And…” Betty winces, almost apologetically. “It was okay.”

Kevin narrows his eyes. “Okay? That means this was either the worst kiss in history, like, so bad you don’t even want to talk about it, or it was so amazing that you _can’t_ talk about it.”

Betty shakes her head. “No. It was just…fine.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Kevin groans: “This is _so_ disappointing.”

Betty can’t help but giggle. “I’m sorry my love life bores you so.”

“Can I have more champagne?” He thrusts his glass towards Veronica, who rolls her eyes, but reaches for the pitcher on the coffee table nonetheless.

“You can have more _mimosa._ Pace yourself.” She fixes her eyes on Betty as she tops off his drink. “So that’s really it? No swoony moments? No grand declarations of love?”

“That’s it.” Betty stretches her legs out before her to rest her feet on the ottoman by the foot of the couch, hoping she looks more relaxed than she feels. Because while it was easy enough to tell her friends about her letdown of a date, she had warred with herself during the entire twenty-minute walk to the Pembrooke that morning, debating whether or not to tell them about the _other_ conclusion she’d reached at about 3 a.m. that morning. She still isn’t sure.

“So you guys are done?” Kevin presses.

“I…I don’t know.”

When Trev had kissed her goodnight, Betty had kissed back, albeit briefly; she’d smiled, said thank you, done all of the pretty, polite things she’d been trained to do for her entire life, never stopping to think about how he might have interpreted them. Viewed from a certain angle – a male angle, with a view of the world about six inches higher than her own – one might consider it a successful, if not near-perfect, date.

“I mean, I do know. I don’t want you guys to get the wrong idea. He was _so_ sweet the whole night. I just…I never felt what you’re supposed to feel.” She lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “But I didn’t tell _him_ that, so…I think I have to.”

Veronica frowns in sympathy. “I’m sorry, girl.”

“It’s okay.” Betty takes a deep breath, and then downs what’s left of her drink in one sip _._ “But, um. There’s something else. That I kind of started to realize while I was out with Trev.”

“You need an older man,” Veronica nods sagely.

“You’re bi,” Kevin stage-whispers.

“What? No.” Betty looks down at her empty flute, tracing the base of the glass with her thumb. “I, um. I think I like Jughead.”

Her friends are silent for so long that she almost wonders if she only _thought_ the confession, and didn’t actually voice it out loud. But when she looks up to take in their faces, they can best be described as…bewildered _._

Betty feels her face grow hot. “You guys. It’s not _that_ weird,” she insists.

“Wait… _really_?” Kevin puts his glass down on the coffee table for the first time all morning. “We _just_ talked about this. You were all, no, no, I don’t like Jughead.”

“Well, I’ve been…figuring things out. Veronica’s the one who said he liked _me_.”

“I didn’t think it was reciprocated,” Veronica points out.

Betty sighs – this reaction, almost to the letter, was what she had feared. Veronica was not shy about the fact that she butted heads with Jughead more often than not. And despite years of orbiting one another’s social circles (if Jughead could be said to have one), Kevin still thought of him as the kid who had almost set their elementary school on fire in the fifth grade.

“Are you sure, B?” Veronica says gently, leaning forward in her chair. “Don’t take this the wrong way. But…are you sure it’s not like…you’re drawn to him right now because he’s kind of the opposite of Archie?”

Truthfully, that was one of the first questions Betty had asked herself as she lay in bed last night, her mind and her body both buzzing with an anxiety she couldn’t pinpoint and couldn’t quell. The answer, she’d decided, was no.

Jughead and Archie weren’t opposites at all. Both boys were loyal, and kind, and sweet in their own ways, even if they were miles apart in how they expressed it. And maybe Jughead was quiet where Archie was ebullient, witty where Archie was earnest – but she _liked_ those things about him. She always had.

She shakes her head firmly. “That’s not it. I can’t really explain it. It’s just…when I think about him, I feel…”

She trails off, letting her inability to summon an appropriate adjective speak for itself.

“Like glitter is exploding inside of you?” Kevin supplies, and if she didn’t already know he was quoting a tv show, she’d be impressed by his insight.

Betty smiles. “Exactly.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

It certainly feels like _something_ is exploding inside of her the next morning at school – nerves, most likely. But it has nothing to do with Jughead.

Trev is already waiting by her locker by the time Betty arrives, leaning casually against the wall, tapping away at his phone in his hands. When he sees her approach, he smiles and straightens up, shoving the phone into his pocket.

“Hi,” he says, and leans down to give Betty a kiss on the cheek.

Betty ducks his gaze, spinning open her locker combination with greater focus than usual. “Hey, Trev.”

“How was the rest of your weekend?”

“It was good. Yours?”

“Good, but…I spent a lot of it thinking about when I could see you again.”

She pulls her binder and her math textbook out of her locker and holds them against her chest like armor, steeling herself. It’s now or never. She has to bite the bullet, rip off the band-aid, and all the other lame metaphors that boil down to being brutally, unreservedly honest.

“Look, Trev –”

A hand on her elbow stops her cold. “Betty.”

It’s Jughead. _Of course_ it’s Jughead. Her face grows hot. “Hey Jug.”

“Can I talk to you?” He looks a little more disheveled than usual today, his dark hair particularly unruly beneath his ever-present beanie. His eyes flick away from hers momentarily to land on Trev, but otherwise, he doesn’t acknowledge the other boy’s presence. “It’s – important.”

“We’re kind of in the middle of something, man.” Trev’s tone of voice is perfectly neutral, but even so, his words – an echo of Jughead’s own from the week before – take Betty by surprise. Maybe Trev Brown has sharper edges than she’d thought. Betty lifts a hand to her mouth, scratching at a spot on her cheek to try and hide her half-smile.

To his credit, Jughead seems to understand that he deserves the rebuff. He doesn’t argue, just looks at Betty, a plea in his eyes.

She almost cracks. But if she doesn’t talk to Trev now, she won’t have another chance until the school day is over. And after what he’s just confessed – that he’s been thinking of her ever since their date – she can’t bear the thought of him going about his day believing that Betty feels the same way. Even if Jughead _has_ come across some kind of breakthrough in their investigation.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” she tells him. “Can we talk about it at lunch?”

Jughead looks almost pained by her answer, but, Betty figures, unless Polly is literally bound and gagged somewhere within the walls of Riverdale High, there isn’t much they can do to find her until lunchtime, anyway.

“I’ll text you,” he mutters, and disappears into the throng of students making their way towards homeroom.

“He’s a little blunt sometimes,” Trev remarks, not uncharitably.

“Yeah,” she says absently. “Look, Trev – I did want to talk to you today.” She pauses to take a deep breath, her heart pulsing rapidly in her chest, and starts to reach for his hand before thinking better of it. _Why is this so hard?_

“I’m not sure how to say this. I think you’re – amazing. And I really do like you. But I’ve thought about it, and…I think we’re better off as friends.” She swallows, and just in case she hasn’t made it absolutely, one hundred percent clear, adds: “I like you as a friend.”

The semi-permanent smile has disappeared from Trev’s face, a slight frown in its place. He shifts on his feet, his hands sinking into the pockets of his jacket. “Oh.”

Fighting back the urge to say _I’m sorry_ , Betty digs her fingers into the sides of her binder, grateful she has something to occupy her hands.

“Um – okay.” Trev takes a step back, seemingly torn between continuing the conversation or walking away. “Well, I’m sorry if I…did anything to make you uncomfortable, or…”

“You didn’t,” she says quickly, a tight feeling in her chest. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Okay,” he says again, sounding dazed. “I guess…I guess I’ll see you around.”

Betty slumps against her locker as she watches him go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Though she’s relieved that it’s over – and knows that Trev is probably feeling a lot worse about it all than she is – she carries the weight of the breakup with her all morning (if one could even call it a breakup, after only two dates).

Kevin notices when he slips into the desk beside hers in third period English. “You talked to Trev?” he asks, rubbing her arm in sympathy. She nods.

All morning she doesn’t even think about whatever it is that Jughead so desperately wanted to tell her, until her phone buzzes five minutes before the end of class and the start of their lunch period. _Meet me @ blue & gold?_

“I’ll be a little late to lunch,” she tells Kevin as they gather their books after the bell rings. “I think Jughead figured something out about Polly.” Kevin just raises his eyebrows in reply.

Jughead is already in the office by the time she arrives, frowning down at the floor from where he’s perched on the edge of a desk, his arms crossed over his chest. His frown deepens when Betty walks through the door. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She drops her backpack on the table and looks at him expectantly. “So what’d you find?”

He tilts his head slightly. “What?”

“The thing you wanted to tell me about. You said it was important.” She twists her fingers together nervously; now that they’re here, now that they might finally _know_ something, she’s feeling every bit of the urgency that had emanated off of Jughead in the hallway. “Do you know where Polly is?”

“Oh. No.” He steps forward and takes her hands in his, stilling them. She barely has time to register what he’s doing before he drops them, as suddenly as if he’s been burnt by the touch of her skin. “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

A part of her feels disappointed, but the funny, anxious feeling in her stomach remains. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry. I should have realized that’s what you’d think.”

“No, it’s okay.” Betty crosses her arms over her middle, cupping her elbows in her hands. “So what is it, then?”

Jughead falls quiet, looking down at the ground again. “I think – well. I owe you an apology.”

Betty blinks. “For what?”

He looks back up, meeting her eyes. “For being a jerk. About you and Trev. You can date whoever you want – I mean, that’s obvious, you don’t need me to tell you that. God, this is coming out really stupid.” He sighs, squaring his shoulders. “I shouldn’t have acted like that. And I won’t, now that you guys are together.”

“We’re not. Together, I mean.”

Now it’s Jughead’s turn to look confused. “You’re not?”

Betty shakes her head slowly. “That’s what I was trying to talk to Trev about this morning. When _you_ interrupted,” she adds with a small smile. “Apology accepted, though.”

Jughead seems dumbstruck. “You – oh. Huh.” He lifts one hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “Well, I guess that makes this next part a whole lot easier, then.”

Betty’s heart is beating so hard and so fast that she almost wonders if he can see it leaping out of her chest, Bugs Bunny-style. “Next part?”

He steps closer, and takes her hands in his again. This time, he doesn’t drop them. “The other thing I wanted to tell you,” he says, his voice catching on the last word.

Betty watches him with wide eyes, but he doesn’t say anything, just stares back at her with a soft look that she can’t recall ever seeing on his face before.

He’s going to say it. She _knows_ he’s going to say it. But before he can, something swells within her, and forces the words out of her mouth first: “I like you.”

Jughead blinks rapidly, his mouth moving wordlessly for a few seconds as he processes what she’s just said. Finally – with a note of amusement, and a hint of disbelief – he says, “That was my line.”

Betty stands up on her tiptoes, leans forward, and answers him with a kiss.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s a much, much better kiss than her last one.

 

 

 

 

 

Jughead seems genuinely torn over whether they should spend what remains of their lunch break actually getting lunch, or continuing to make out in the newspaper office.

“I’m very flattered that you’d even consider skipping lunch for me,” Betty says, smoothing her hand over his shoulder fondly. “But you’re going to be miserable if you don’t eat _something_.”

“You’re right,” he sighs. “You usually are. It’s why I like you.”

Betty grins, and pulls him towards the door.

They don’t hold hands as they walk through the hallway, given that a freshly-wounded Trev might see, but Veronica and Kevin greet them with smug, knowing smiles when they finally join their friends in the cafeteria, with about fifteen minutes to spare before their next class.

“Hey guys,” Archie says, bright and oblivious. “You’re late. What’s going on?”

Kevin opens his mouth, most likely to make some kind of nonsensical food-based innuendo, but snaps it shut when Betty shoots him a Look. “We just had to go over some stuff for the Blue and Gold,” she says, an answer that Archie happily accepts without further explanation.

Betty eats her lunch with one hand, listening to her friends chatter away, and hooks her pinky finger around Jughead’s beneath the table with the other.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The thing that surprises Betty the most about dating Jughead Jones isn’t that his famously voracious appetite extends to things other than food, too. It isn’t that his kisses make her toes curl, or that his hands on her skin make her knees weak. It isn’t that when he presses his lips against the scars on her palms, she understands the words he’s not speaking as clearly as if he’d whispered them in her ear.

It’s that once they’re together, she can’t remember how she ever imagined there might be another boy who’d make her feel this way, this good, this often – this loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS I ACTUALLY FINISHED A MULTI-CHAPTER FIC *collapses*
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed this brief, fluffy ride as much as I have. (And if you did, I hope you will leave a comment!)

**Author's Note:**

> So for some reason everyone on tumblr started reblogging adorable GIFs of Trev Brown, and I - with a nudge from the lovely singsongsung - decided there needed to be more. Hence, this fic. 
> 
> (Although I wrote this all and realized Trev himself doesn't really make much of an appearance...don't worry! He'll be there next chapter, when they go on their date, oooooooh.)
> 
> Other random thought: man, it is FUN to write Jughead as the angsty little baby that he is.
> 
> Please let me know what you think with a comment! <3


End file.
